The Blue Storm
by Nikkel
Summary: As Zuko begins to deal with the tumult of politics and pressures as Fire Lord, he finds himself longing for the simple life. Nightmares infiltrate his dreams, and they feature an old, mysterious blue mask... something he had thought he had left behind...
1. Before the Storm

_---Author's note in following chapter.---_**

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**Chapter One: Before the Storm**

"That was an excellent speech, Fire Lord Zuko."

"Oh yes, very well done. I'm glad to hear that the taxes will be lifted soon."

"As am I, I simply can't believe the plans you've thought of to settle our doubts. Thank you very much."

The Fire Lord held up a hand to silence them. "Please, gentlemen," he said, smiling wearily. "It should be you to thank for your cooperation. Now, it's been a long day, we should all get to bed."

"Yes, my Fire Lord." The three politicians bowed and then they all parted. Zuko turned and exited the chamber through his own, private door that led him straight to his quarters. He was absolutely exhausted from the peace conference—as easily as it had gone along, politics had never really been his "thing". He was grateful that his Uncle Iroh had prepared him before the four-hour meeting. His robes felt as heavy as lead as he trudged up the stairs and came into his room.

Zuko walked past the pile of scrolls that had yet to be read and replied to, his personal and dozing messenger-hawk, and other commodities, and fell eagle-spread on his mattress. he breathed in deeply, lying with his face smashed in the pillows. He was drained and empty of emotion, not bothering to take his robes off if he fell asleep. For a brief moment he imagined a better time, where he didn't have to worry about taxes and debts and tariffs. He rolled over onto his back, one hand behind his head, staring at the vaulted ceiling. The candles scattered throughout the room gave the image of a warm, roasting fire on its eggshell surface, but he knew that nothing could replace the true, liquid-gold image of melting iron.

Within the palace walls, everything was provided for him. Rich and elegant food came on silver platters. Clothing was hand-washed by maids in hot springs and dried by the Fire Nation's tropical winds. A schedule was set for every day to carry out life as royalty. Other than being at peace conferences and occasionally practicing his firebending, there was nothing particularly exciting about being Fire Lord. He was disconnected with the rest of the world instead of being a part of it. He was glad, though, for the absence of drama—sometimes it was like he didn't even have a temper anymore—but at the same time, he kept feeling a distinct loneliness. His uncle was helping him by settling affairs within the military and was forced to stay in his office all day, Mai was visiting Ty Lee on Kyoshi Island, and Aang was working with the Earth Kingdom to reorganize their government under a new king, as well as reestablish the Dai Lee, with obvious changes and improvements. Not even Azula was around to prove an idle (albeit somewhat hostile) conversation with—her being halfway across the ocean receiving medical help and all. It came down to that Zuko was lonely, spent, and slipping into a depression.

A powerful gust of wind blew through the satin curtains, rustling them and causing a couple of nearby scrolls to fall to the floor. Zuko slightly opened his eyes to find a dark storm brewing far-out over the sea, still on the edge of the horizon. He had no doubt that it would arrive at the capital by midnight, rogue winds washing into his room. He closed his eyes again, thinking about the nights he had spent so long ago…

* * *

_The earth was soft under foot, dampened by a light rain, misting down from the purple-black heavens. He crouched steadily in his position, waiting in the tall prairie grasses, kneeling until he was given the opportunity to move. Amber eyes trained upon the other traveler's campsite, he stayed until there were only embers in the fireplace and when they no longer gave off any smoke. A flash of heat lightning seared the sky and revealed that three men that the thief was hunting were nestled under their blankets, asleep, and leaving their supplies out for the taking._

_With the stealth of a pygmy panther he crept forward, a broadsword gripped in his left hand, another strapped to his back. He could not take into account what might happen if he did not have at least one weapon out he could use. Traveling downwind from the campers, the ninja approached the site, giving its residents a wide berth. All of their supplies were stacked into a pile. The job was too easy._

_The bandit hung his broadsword to his side and began to pull out random sacks and bags from the pile, speedily opening them up, looking inside, and then tossing them back. He found maps and jewelry and clothes and money, but value was not what he was searching for. His stomach ached and his mouth was dry—hunger was what was driving him so. Finally he came upon a knapsack stuffed with small cantaloupes, a loaf of bread, and something that smelled like buffalo-deer jerky. It seemed to be enough for a single meal, perhaps two, and would tie the thief over until he reached the next town. He knew very well that he could have survived the night without food, but the thought of starvation and not having provisions overwhelmed him. And, he rationalized, if he had the ability to go without food for a day, so could the people he was stealing from. They didn't have much in the first place._

_In a fluid motion he stood and slid the knapsack over his shoulders, holding his breath; good, the travelers were still asleep. He turned and suddenly ran into something large that gave out a cry and knocked him off his feet, a vicious talon tearing the fabric of his left arm. The thief swung his broadsword wildly through the air to protect himself from the startled ostrich-horse, squawking and crying out, giving off enough racket to wake the campers._

_"No!" The bandit growled through clenched teeth, able to roll away and stand. He came forward at the animal to calm it, trying to grab its reigns, but the ostrich-horse squalled and clapped its beak so close to him that his ear was nearly taken off._

_"Huh? Hey! Who goes there! A bandit!"_

_"Get 'im!"_

_He was found out. One of the travelers put something on the fire so it ignited with a roar of scarlet and orange, the other two charging at him without weapons. The moment they came close the thief thwacked the hilt of his sword into one man's chest, sending him sprawling, and kicking the other. He sharply turned and brandished his blade to the remainder, threatening all three of them, but they continued to attack. They all leapt at him at once, but a mere duck and sidestep sent them hurdling over him. They jumped up again, surrounding him._

_"Cheat!"_

_"Rat!"_

_"Thief!"_

_The bandit brought his other sword down, now wielding dual. Like when he had been spying on the campsite earlier that night, he kept his senses trained to his targets, prepared for any move they made. The fire crackled and popped sparks of yellow ashes, hanging and sizzling in the dry, heated summer air. He had to move._

_Throwing his broadswords to their places at his hips, the thief darted away as lightning illuminated the world, blinding the campers long enough so he had a split-second to escape. he only had to run a few feet before the travelers caught on, shouting and yelling after him, chasing him into the darkness. He flipped down into a roll, lying flat on his stomach, the knapsack safely in his possession._

_When the travelers came near, though, as they one by one did, he rose up and slashed them right at the throats, blood splattering onto his wooden blue mask._


	2. Rain Upon Glass

It feels as if it's been a while since I published this, but it's only been about a week. Huh. The chapters are short, so I think I may just update sometime within the week, just because I feel like it :D

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**Chapter Two: Rain Upon Glass**

He had been right about the storm before. Zuko awoke to find grey and dismal clouds outside his window. It was nothing more than an autumn downpour. The wind still billowed the curtains and drops of rain flew into his room, but he did not care. He couldn't even tell the time by the lack of the sun. He sat up in bed, crimson covers draped around him as he massaged his temples.

"What… what was that?" Zuko said aloud to himself, as if he had to be sure that he was awake and real. "I… I got rid of that mask… didn't I? Agni…"

he was lucky that he was meting his uncle for tea and meditation that morning. Feeling much less casual he dressed down from his Fire Lord robes (he had somehow fallen asleep in them) and into a comfortable, crimson-gold outfit. Zuko walked barefoot to Iroh's quarters, passing by the large, open windows of the palace. A triangular overhang allowed rainwater to fall off the roof, and Fire Nation tapestries kept it from coming in. Several times he stopped to feel the breeze against his skin, caressing him, and beckoning him gently back into a world where he no longer lived.

Iroh was sitting cross-legged by his window when Zuko entered, but unlike the hallways, it was paned and glasses. No weather penetrated the old man's room, the rain drumming softly against the window, and left behind speckled crystal droplets. Quietly Zuko sat beside him, hands on his knees, letting out a long, heavy breath.

"Difficultly sleeping?" Iroh asked, cracking open an eye. "There is some jasmine tea on the table behind you. It will wake you up."

"Thanks. And yeah, a bit," Zuko replied, and moved to pour himself a cup. He didn't have a taste for tea, but it was better than nothing.

"Perhaps it is because you are nervous about marriage." Iroh snickered, and Zuko nearly choked on his tea. He glared at him as he swallowed a hot bubble of liquid down his throat.

"No. Marriage is the last thing on my mind. Besides, Mai isn't even here."

"Haha, all right, no need to get upset." Iroh smiled jokingly and brushed the ground beside him. "Sit. If it is no marriage you are concerned about, then what, my nephew?"

"I had a dream—or at least I think it was dream—about the Blue Spirit last night."

Iroh's smile quickly faded. He lowered his head, eyebrows knitted. His honeysuckle eyes were now dead serious.

"And… what happened in this dream?"

"I was… I mean the Spirit—was stealing things. Money, food. I… I think he killed three people at the end."

"Have you ever killed anyone?" Iroh's voice was grave, and had the resemblance of a stone being sharpened against another. Zuko froze, paralyzed, even though Iroh had not even twitched. His glower said enough.

"No. No. I don't think so. No."

Iroh stared at him for a moment more, as if reading him. Then he turned away and sipped his tea, as if washing away the dragon inside him with warm jasmine. "Good. For if you had… I don't know what I would have done with myself."

"I haven't," Zuko assured, "I swear."

"I believe you, Zuko. I trust you." The old man raised his head to gaze out the window. "I wish they did not glass us in, it makes me feel disconnected from the world."

This brought a smile to Zuko's lips. At least one person understood his logic.

The meeting with his uncle left him uncomfortable for the remainder of the day. The way Iroh had looked at him had sent chills down his spine, and was made worse by that he didn't even know if the Blue Spirit _had _committed homicide or not. He prayed that the truth of innocence was on his side.

The sky was still grey and faceless when he returned to his room at dusk. The rain had lessened, but he still found scrolls and pieces of parchment that were soaked. He picked all of them up in a sodden mess and dumped them into the trash, knowing that they were ruined and that he would never read them. What was the point of reading about taxes and the economy if he never understood it? He was the Fire Lord, not a merchant. Even though the rain continued to drizzle inside he left the windows open.

Zuko crossed over to his closet, where inside sat a heavy, fire-padlocked trunk. He shot a small flame with his index finger at the keyhole, and the lock clicked open. There was only a light coat of dust on the wooden trunk as he pulled it open, staring at its contents.

They were items that he hadn't looked at in at least three months, and some prior to Sozin's Comet. Without touching anything he found his pearl dagger, the letter he had left Mai when he had gone to join the Avatar, and his former prince crown. Among the items were his wool clothes that he had worn for most of his time spent in the Earth Kingdom—less than half a year ago, but it felt so much longer. He was a changed man, a boy that had fulfilled his destiny, and now awaited whatever obstacle came next. But what if his nightmares—the Blue Spirit—was one of those obstacles? The mask had always been a troubling matter to him. Was its haunting a sign that some art of him still had to let it go?

To his relief, the mask was not in the box. "I threw it in the lake," he recalled, sitting back. "Lake Laogai."

He then firmly remembered the wooden, cerulean facade drown in the depths of the lake, its teasingly demonic face sinking beneath the surface. Zuko was certain that he had not dreamt or imagined it, for his uncle had been beside him the entire time. He checked the trunk once again though, but still found nothing.


	3. Capture

**Chapter Three: Capture**

_The streets were empty. The moon was clouded. Tarps hung over market carts and dragon-moose slept in their stables. The outskirts of the lower ring of Ba Sing Se were eerily quiet, eerily dark. Shudders were closed and doors were locked, hopeful to keep all intruders out. But none could protect themselves from the thief, the Blue Spirit that broke into their kitchens, stole all their food and any prized possession that he could forge, and then leave as if he had never even been there. It was easier to steal from the poor than the rich—peasant's houses were stacked together and allowed more places to hide, and guards did not patrol the streets as they did in the upper ring. The plundering was quantity over quality in this part of town, but all that mattered was that the bandit was satisfied._

_With light footsteps he leapt from roof to roof, fashioned out of green or brown stone, and so the bottoms of his feet had to made out of leather to avoid any noise. In the soundless dark various bags hung over his shoulders, his broadswords at his hips, though he did not expect combat. On such a night he was working alone, and if anyone saw him, they would see nothing but a man in a mask, a Blue Spirit. It was clear since the last time he had stolen that the bandit had become much more adept at stealth, his movements streamlined, his patience greater. But as developed as he had become, the night had been prosperous for him, and he headed for home._

_But as he made his way back, two men walking down a path caught his eye. And they weren't just any men—they were __noblemen__; aristocrats with thick, braided hair, silken emerald robes, balsawood sandals, and of course, __money__. The Blue Spirit paused and leapt behind a hanging laundry line, furtherly concealing himself, studying his targets. Neither of them looked to be carrying a weapon, but he didn't doubt the idea that they were benders—he was in Ba Sing Se, afterall, the largest capital of the world—but even that seemed unlikely. Their skin was smooth-looking, their fingernails clean, their faces shaven, and hardly had a speck of dirt; earthbenders they were not. They had no canteens of water with them, and the possibility of them being firebenders or airbenders was simply absurd._

_What intrigued the bandit more, however, was __what__ two noblemen, two aristocrats of the highest class of society next to royalty, were doing in such a poor and decrepit part of town. It became his incentive to follow them (and perhaps pickpocket them later), curious of where they were headed on such a night. He leapt into a position above them on a rooftop, the Great Wall behind him, mighty shadow hiding him as they knocked on someone's door._

_A young woman answered the door, practically a teenager. Her hair was ran down in brunette tendrils over her shoulders and she rubbed an eye. "Is there something I can help you with?"_

_The men looked at each other, but said nothing. All of a sudden they both leapt at the girl, one clapping a hand over her mouth as she opened it to scream, the other snatching her by the wrists and bounding her. She thrashed and stumbled backwards into her own house, rolling around and kicking her legs, but it was useless. One man pounced on her ankles so hard it brought tears to her eyes, him strapping her feet together, making it so she bucked and writhed like a helpless worm. The second man tied a gag around her head yet she still screamed, teeth biting into the cloth, her throat going hoarse. The two nobles stood up to admire their defenseless victim, and one chopped the collarbone of her neck with the knife of his hand, knocking her out._

Blankets flew up in a flurry as Zuko shot up in bed, slickered in cold sweat, breathing heavily. He clenched his teeth and put his head in his hands, eyes tightly shut from the horror his mind had conjured.

Outside, thunder echoed his fear.


	4. Depature to the Walled City

**Chapter Four: Departure to the Walled City**

The Fire Lord could not sleep for several nights. And when he did, he tossed and turned, mind flashing over and over again with the image of the girl being attacked and captured. He continuously woke in a cold sweat, shuddering, shivering, like a little boy afraid of the dark. He throughout his days with the paranoia lingering in the back of his head. He had to keep placing a hand on his face to make sure that there was no mask.

Zuko woke one morning in particular, running a hand through his hair. After about a week of nightmares, he knew what he had to do.

"You're sure you have to leave?" Mai asked, returned from Kyoshi Island, and standing in the center of the room. Zuko did not pause from carrying various items and clothes into a shoulderbag, but nodded firmly.

"Yes. I have to know why this nightmares keeps bothering me, I have to go to Ba Sing Se."

"Have you talked to your uncle about it?"

"He was the one that suggested it. He says it's not a good sign, but the Spirits know what they're doing. It's something they want me to know."

"Why do you suppose that is?"

"No clue, but going there I think is going to give me some answers."

"Well then I hope so. For you."

Zuko closed his bags, and went to put his arms around his fiancé, smiling. "Thanks. Because I know you don't believe in much."

Mai shrugged. "Just be glad I'm wishing you luck. Don't get all lovey-dovey."

With that comment, Zuko's smile turned into a smirk, and he kissed her.

"I'm going to miss you, that's all."

"Hmph."

He kissed her again.

The foghorn of the great, steel ship boomed loudly over the docks. It pulled in its anchor and allowed the ocean waves to take it out to sea, the engines just beginning to burn and spout heavy, black smoke into the clear blue sky. The storm had had finally passed and left behind a serene calm, with a gentle summer breeze and glowing yellow sun. Crab-gulls ducked and dived through the cobalt blue, wings spread and swooping in wide, joyous circles.

Zuko stood at the head of the ship, hand gripping the iron railing. Thought it was a perfect day for travel, he kept his eyes peeled on the horizon for an incoming storm. The weather was nice, but for him, it was _too _nice. He continued to frown.

The last time he had been to Ba Sing Se—actually _visiting_ it, not there for business—had been during his exile. He wondered if it had changed since being under siege. There was no doubt in his mind that the people were different, since they were no longer being brainwashed by the Dai Lee. As the Fire Lord, who was a ruler and overseer of the public, he could never understand why a leader would choose for their people to know nothing. Ignorance caused suffering, chaos, despair. How would people protect themselves if they didn't even know they were being attacked?

He instantly thought of the girl in his dream. She had been defenseless because of her ignorance. Though Ba Sing Se had a low crime rate compared to some of the other cities he had been to, didn't the girl find two aristocrats knocking on her door in the middle of the night the least bit suspicious? Did she have no common sense? Or was she truly that ignorant?

But perhaps the city's ignorance was the reason he was having such premonitions. While Aang restored peace and order, he, Zuko, had to show them the world had changed industrialized economically in the past one hundred years. It seemed like a duty that would fit the Fire Lord, even though he had no reign over the Earth Kingdom. It would be a good way to become allies and apologize for what his country has done.

Yet, why did the dreams come in the form of the Blue Spirit? That question alone troubled the young Fire Lord, made him worried and anxious. Even his uncle had said that the mask was trouble. The Blue Spirit had always been a sign of Zuko's own selfishness, his greed for himself and violence against those he hardly knew. Why would his nightmares, then, if they were to tell him what had to be done to Ba Sing Se for the greater good, come from such a negative image as the Blue Spirit?

None of it made sense to him. Evening fell, but he did not retire to bed. No. He wouldn't sleep and risk himself living the nightmare again. Zuko stood at the railing, drinking fiery spice tea to keep himself awake.


	5. A Journey Long Wasted

**Chapter Five: A Journey Long Wasted**

_He was making his rounds again._

_Sack over his shoulder, broadswords in his hands, and mask on his face, the Blue Spirit scoured the streets of Ba Sing Se. He had moved up in his plundering, bag now filled with fine jewelry, pearls, and gold compared to the regular spoils of silver and copper pieces. The food was fresher and the taste richer, just like the people he stole from. He knew that aristocrats had an endless supply of just about everything he took. More and more often did the bandit don his cerulean mask and take from others each night. He could have spread the wealth to the poor in mere couple of bounds, but he kept it for himself, even when he had enough. There was always something more when it came to stealing._

_Unlike the lower ring where houses were crammed together and jumping from roof to roof was simple, the places in the upper ring were farther apart. Thus, the thief took it to the streets, slinking in the shadows that the moon's pale light could not reach. When he set his bag down it was easy to crawl through a window, gather what he wanted, and then vanish. He had thought that stealing from the nobles would have been difficult, but it turned out to be much easier than he had expected._

_The only problem were the Dai Lee patrolling the streets. They carried torches with them, illuminating the shadows in which he hid. Were he not wearing a mask, he could have manipulated the flames at the end of their sticks, but the Blue Spirit was no firebender. Instead he ducked into the best places he could—behind barrels, underneath carts, lying down on rooftops—to avoid being seen. He couldn't risk being caught and having his mask ripped off to reveal the pitiless man behind it, the whole purpose of the mask was to hide that man._

_The orange glow of a Dai Lee agent's torch grew close. He froze in the center of the road, and then dived behind a cart. He steadied his breath, hot and wetting the inside of his mouthpiece, moist in addition to the spring humidity. The Blue Spirit steadied his broadswords, keeping his eyes locked on the shadow on the opposite building, drawing near. He had enough of hiding and escaping the entire night; it was time he acted and made a threat, beginning with this man._

_Like a knife from the darkness the Blue Spirit leapt, broadswords lashing out and strangling the victim around the throat, pulling their body close, pressing against it, forcing them to believe that he was real, and that he was a real threat._

_But they didn't scream. They didn't struggle. The bandit relaxed his grip, realizing that his victim was female, and carrying no torch, but a small candle. She turned around, eyes closed, and hands cupping the edges of his mask. She pressed her lips to the ivory, wooden surface, kissing him._

_He dropped his swords._

The Fire Lord was dressed as a commoner. In his brown and stitchy pants plus tunic from half a year ago, Zuko blended into the streets of Ba Sing Se just like any other refugee. His hair had grown—shoddy and messy as always—and covered up the majority of his scar, even though people didn't ask about it. He had seen urns on them, and the cause was obvious. It was respectful to accept their war injuries and move on.

A part of him considered visiting Aang while he was staying within the city. The Avatar had, afterall, been the one to experience the Blue Spirit firsthand, as well as its wrath. But he decided against it—if he told Aang about his nightmares, the Avatar might consider him unstable. Though Aang was younger than him, he felt to Zuko like an older brother, for he was wiser than his years. Zuko knew that if he mentioned a resurgence of the Blue Spirit, Aang would be hovering over him and complicate matters that Zuko didn't need. The Avatar was best left out of it.

Iroh's tea shop was not far from where he walked. He felt bad for requiring his uncle to help him with his job as Fire Lord (not to mention have him temporarily _serve _as Fire Lord while he was away), and deprive him from doing a simple job he loved. But Iroh trusted his nephew to solve his problems, and knew that he would not dwell on the Blue Spirit for long... or so he had hoped.

Through a network of roads, paths, alleyways, and bridges, Zuko wandered his way to the place that had been haunting him: the captured woman's house. He kept his eyes peeled for the men that had taken her, as if they were to return to the scene of the crime, but they had been aristocrats, and aristocrats were a rarity in the lower ring. Zuko stopped in front of a familiar-looking home, holding his breath. A dog laid out front tied to a wooden pole. It raised its head, but took no interest in him. He walked up and knocked on the door.

An old man, large and plump, with a gruff, grey beard answered him.

"Hi. My name is Lee. I was wondering if there used to be a young woman that lived here."

The man shook his head. "Sorry, but I've only lived here for a couple o' months. I don't know any woman."

"Oh... well, do you know who you bought it from?"

"Can't say I do, sonny. The government gave it to me after my old house collapsed from the Fire Nation attack."

"Sorry to bother you then. Have a good day."

Zuko swiftly turned around, trudging along once again. He was now confused more than ever, biting his lip, struggling to keep his anger in. How was it that he kept dreaming about something that wasn't even possible? And when he had gone all out of his way to figure it out, he came up with no answers, hitting dead ends and all sorts of impossibilities If the Blue Spirit's mask was in front of him now, he knew that it would be laughing at him for his foolishness. He should have known that the purpose of a mask was to deceive.

He looked all over the city, desperate for clues. He was investigating his own crime, yet, he couldn't find any answers—at all. He even traveled to the upper ring (he gained entrance by flashing a pass that showed his employment to _The Jasmine Dragon_) and went to the alley that had been in his dream. He had a faint feeling that the girl that had kissed him was the same that had been captured... but it was as if she didn't even exist.

"Tea. Oh, and make it spice, please." Zuko said to the waiter as he sat at an inn, turning in for the night. Although he had a room at _the Jasmine Dragon_, he wanted to keep himself away from the familiar and focus on his "mission". However, it seemed to be a mission that was quickly becoming an unsolved case. He was defeated, worn-out, and somewhat guilty that he had left the Fire Nation for... nothing.

The waiter returned, setting the sandalwood cup in front of him. "Is this your first time in Ba Sing Se?"

"I've been here before. Er, not this restaurant, but in the city. It's different from the country." He replied.

"Haha, you're telling me," the waiter laughed and leaned against the table's edge. "I used to farm all over in the Ha Win fields. _Big _difference being here."

"Why'd you come to Ba Sing Se?" Zuko asked, mildly interested in the man. He was a couple of years older than the firebender, with dark eyes and dark hair;' he was obviously a lifetime resident of the Earth Kingdom.

"You know, now that I think about it, I don't really remember," the waiter replied, tapping his chin. "But you know, Ba Sing Se ain't just a city—it's a natural wonder. People probably just come to it because it's something that deserves to be seen."

"Yeah," Zuko smiled, remembering how much his uncle had praised the walled, stone metropolis. "It is pretty neat."

"Mushu! Get back to work, there are customers waiting!" The manager shouted, and the waiter sighed, tipping his paper hat.

"That's by boss and older brother, Tao. Well, I'll be seein' ya. It was nice to meet you..."

"Lee," Zuko said, using his peasant name once again. "Lee."

"Oh, all right then. See ya Lee." Mushu grinned, and went to tend his manager's fit before he was yelled at again.

Sipping the hot tea, Mushu had lightened his spirits. He realized then that perhaps all the Blue Spirit inside of him just wanted him to remember the path of his redemption, his true inner self. Zuko felt more of a belonging amongst the artisans and welders, the _peasants _of society, more than the clean-cut and elegant style of royalty. The privacy of the palace walls made him feel disconnected from the rest of the world, but within the tavern—constructed from limestone by the earthbenders themselves—he was right at home. He could be himself.

Perhaps it was the people of Ba Sing Se that made him feel at ease. Back in the Fire Nation, everything was about honor, pride, and presentation. But within the stoned city, people looked upon one another with sympathy, curiosity, and an open mind. As the Fire Nation was beginning to retreat to its own country again and lower its arms, it very well seemed that the Earth Kingdom would be the next leading power.

And Zuko drank his tea to that, humble.


	6. Lachrymose

**Chapter Six: Lachrymose**

_"Argh! Let me go!"_

_"Shut that peasant up, will you?!"_

_--SLAP!--_

_The rain fell in hammering, wet sheets. Thunder crashed and seemed as if it could rock the wooden cart of the suction-cup mud and topple it over into the murky ditch on either side of the narrow road. Lightning crackled and struck the sludgy path in front of the carriage, the ostrich-horse going wild with fear._

_"Shut up you filthy animal!" the driver yelled and cracked a whip soundly above its head so it cowered and reluctantly trudged on through the needling drops, piercing hide and skin._

_"Can't we go any faster?! Spirits, this storm is terrible!" the man with the girl grunted. He snorted and kicked her in the ribs as she lay on her side, whimpering, gagged, and bound. She was limp, tears running down her cheeks, terrified of what these men were going to do to her. They had already beaten her and stolen her from her home—oh, how she pleaded to know what they wanted, why they were doing what they were doing to her! They were total strangers, and they had the power to do whatever they wanted to her. She had never felt so defeated in her life._

_"Get up, wench, get up!" the man roared and his hand clamped around her frail arm, bruising her and yanking her to her feet. She closed her eyes as she was dragged out into the torrential downpour, the drops as sharp and cold as icicles. Looking up through dripping bangs she saw the driver of the wagon leaning against a large boulder, and behind him was a vast, grey lake. Mountains towered all around her and there was no sign of civilization spare a wooden dock leading out from the muddy shore. It wouldn't matter what happened to her now, for no one would come to her rescue._

_Her torturer threw her against the boulder and yelled above the thunder, "Who is he?! WHO?!"_

_She choked, falling to her knees. The second man put her upright again. "PLEASE!" she cried, legs giving out again, but the man's hands upon her wrists were like iron chains._

_"Just let me go, I didn't do anything wrong!"_

_"Liar!" The first man slapped her. "You know who it is! You're the only one that knows!"_

_"I don't know what you're tal--"_

_"The _Blue Spirit_, for Kyoshi's sake! Tell us who he is or we'll kill you!"_

_"I don't know who he is! I don't know who he is!"_

_"Ignorance is no excuse, tell us!"_

_"I can't! I don't know!"_

_"Tell!"_

_"I DON'T KNOW!"_

_Blood, mud, and rain mixed at the girl's feet. Her scream faded with the echoing boom of thunder, her cries silenced by the pattering sheets of rain. The last there was to see of her was her body, floating in the lake, and gently sinking beneath the surface. Raindrops landed on her pale and sullen face, like angel tears._


	7. Dark Water

**Chapter Seven: Dark Water**

There was a dismal, overcast cloud cover the next day. Soft raindrops fell to the earth, gentle and landing on blooming flower petals. The flora was on both sides of the dirt path, like spectators to whomever walked by. One of these walkers was Zuko, a stick in his hand as he hiked uphill. It had taken him several hours to journey up the slope and reach the wide, spacious and green valley featuring a pristine lake in the center. Had it been sunny, the surface would have been shimmering and clear as glass. But today it was murky and morose, the stone-colored waves flopping up on the muddy shore like dead fish.

He felt hopeless, lost. Though he didn't even know the girl, he knew he was guilty of not being able to stop her death. The entire time he had witnessed the nightmare he kept expecting the Blue Spirit to appear and save her, but that did not happen. Now his questions were more than unanswered—now they weighted upon him as a heavy burden of shame and loss. He had no purpose to question any further because he had realized that no matter how hard he tried, he would only be taunted by the answer, like the Blue Spirit taunted his enemies.

Zuko had originally planned the day before to go to Lake Laogai, but ever since he had awoken from the girl's murder, he knew that it was his only option. Lake Laogai was where he had abandoned the mask. He felt that being at the lake would not only provide him answers (useless as it now seemed), but also gave him the choice to look for the mask, check if it was still there.

What if somebody else had found the mask, and claimed it to be the new Blue Spirit, reborn and resurrected? Iroh often said that masks, unlike regular objects, had the spiritual ability to capture a person's soul and establish a connection that was more than physical. Zuko could be seeing what the new Blue Spirit was seeing through his dreams because of this connection. The firebender sighed heavily to himself as he walked out to the wooden dock, overseeing the placid lake. He didn't know whether or not to be hopeful that someone else had donned the Blue Spirit's mask. It would certainly explain the supernatural phenomena that had been happening to him, but he also knew that the new user would be in grave danger. A girl had been killed already because of the Spirit, maybe more.

As great theories as they sounded, they had yet to be tested. Zuko pulled off his shoes and shirt, standing on the dock, preparing to dive into the colorless water. He had to find the mask. He had to.

The firebender sucked in a deep breath and dived into the icy water, freezing the moment he entered it. Clouds of dirt and sand rose up around him as he splashed, and he cleared a hand in front of him, wiping away the grime to see. The lake was much deeper and bigger beneath the water, looking about as endless as the earth's horizon. In the distance he saw the hazy silhouette of some giant creature swimming back and forth. His mind fleeted to the thoughts of sea serpents, even though he knew such beasts only lived in large bodies of water, larger than Lake Laogai. He only hoped that the monster wouldn't come near.

Moving his arms and legs, Zuko began his descent to the rocky bottom. It was an entirely different world than the one above—strange, fish-eels slipped in and out of the olive weeds, spider-crabs fled upon the sight of him, and green, luminescent jellyfish floated past him. At the bottom, He found old pieces of wood and metal, perhaps the remains of a ship that had sunk. If that was possible, and it was never found, what was the possibility of finding his mask? The lake was vast and home to at least one sea monster. There was no way he would find it, nor anyone else.

He came to this conclusion as he was parting the underwater reeds. He had to be careful not to get caught in them or ensnared by some lurking creature. Just as he was about to head up, something pale and light blue caught his eye. It could have been the mask, for it couldn't have drifted _that _far from where he had originally dropped it, right? Zuko propelled himself forward, filled with a new hope, a last chance. He tore aside the curtain of weeds, expecting to see the mask, but found a pair of lifeless, human eyes staring at him instead.

He screamed and rocketed to the surface. Zuko threw himself on the dock, panting and shivering. There had been a dead body in the water, _a dead body in the water_, and he had seen it. It had been a girl with brown eyes, brown hair, and a small, sullen face. It was the girl from his nightmares, the girl that had been killed. But it also wasn't just any girl.

It was _Jin_.


	8. The Memory Forgotten and Mourned

**Chapter Eight: The Memory Forgotten and Mourned**

Time passed into the evening, but Zuko hardly noticed on his way back into the city. Nothing mattered to him anymore—the Blue Spirit was now in the back of his mind. He could only think of her, think of _Jin_, and the way he had come to see her. He had spent most of the day on the dock, not going into the water, but mourning with no one to comfort him. And despite the welcoming feeling he received from Ba Sing Se now that he was just another commoner, he also felt that amongst the massive population, his emotions didn't matter to anyone. He had to keep wiping stray tears from his face.

Tea would calm him down, rationalize him. But the death of a friend was not something he could simply "get over". Zuko sat in the same booth as the night before, unable to meet anyone's eyes. Even though he did not ask for it a cup of spice tea slid into his hands.

"You ain't lookin' so good," Mushu commented, ready for conversation. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

Zuko shook his head. He was afraid to speak, for he knew how weak it would have sounded.

"Okay." Mushu nodded and then yelled, "Spirits! That storm is going to be the rival of the Avatar!"

A powerful gust of wind had thrown itself inside the inn and had knocked over a table. Mushu sighed heavily, knowing that he would have to clean it up. He crossed his arms, and Zuko glanced up at the right time to see a black, circular tattoo on the waiter's left arm. Mushu did not notice and said, "Well, so much for conversation. Try to sleep well, Lee, because this storm is gonna be bad."

Zuko finished his tea as Mushu cleaned up the mess, thinking only briefly about the tattoo. He had sworn that he had seen it somewhere before, but he couldn't put his finger on it. And the firebender didn't want to think about anymore unanswered question—Jin plagued them all. Zuko retired to his room at the inn, not bothering to light the candles in his quarters. He stripped down into a pair of shorts and sat on the hardwood floor, eyes sullen and face blank. He left the window before him open so he could embrace the storm, let it govern his soul.

_Jin_. Spirits, why did it have to be _Jin_? She had been kind to him, even though they hardly knew each other that well. It felt that her death was the _real _nightmare, not some mystery the Blue Spirit had laid out for him. She had been his friend, a person on the outside, and he could take a temporary refuge with her and pretend to be a normal teenage boy. She had also been his first girlfriend, and he hadn't minded. Even now he would have welcomed her company, heard her laugh, seen her smiling face. It was one that Zuko couldn't forget. He remembered its glow from when they had gone out together, and he had lit the fountain courtyard for her.

But now that face was smiling no more. It was dead, pale, clammy; it was a face that could never smile again, never see another day. She had been murdered, and now it _was _because of him. If he had given up the Blue Spirit sooner, she wouldn't have been captured when he wasn't looking, and she wouldn't be at the bottom of Lake Laogai. Was that the message the Blue Spirit had been trying to send him? That he should have abandoned the mask sooner? Well, how could he have helped that! He couldn't fix the past, he knew this more than anyone, but Jin's death and the conspiracy around it screamed at him, shouted and bled that everything was his fault. He felt as if he had watched Jin's death, and had done nothing about it.

He was crying out of pity. Zuko clenched his teeth and choked on his sobs, but the pity he felt deepened and stooped to that of irreplaceable anger. If he had been having nightmares that Jin's death had happened, and there was a necessity to smooth out his mistakes, then something had to be done before the murderers killed again. Who knew how many innocent civilians they had slaughtered, and all because of a mess he had neglected to clean up? Zuko pictured the murderers' faces' in his mind, their black hair and noble skin, their eyes black, bent on torturing those that had done nothing wrong. Their flowing green and yellow robes, their rich sandals, and their beastly hands that had taken a hold of Jin's throat, suffocating her, their muscles flexing, the black tattoo on the inside of their arms rippling like a dark, rotating earth—

Zuko's eyes opened. He knew that tattoo he had just seen it… on _Mushu_!

The anger inside him suddenly disappeared, as if the storm's too-strong gales had swept it away. He stood to his feet and robotically moved to his wardrobe and pulled out an ebony outfit, complete with a ninja's mask. The lighting flashed and the thunder clashed behind him outside, rumbling the floor beneath, and he pulled off his shirt to put on the black one, finishing with his pants and boots. Lastly he went up to a rectangle suitcase he had brought with him, and unlatched it on the bed. white-blue light shined off of the broadswords' silvery edges', blunt, but made for a wielder with unstoppable power, unstoppable vengeance. Zuko snatched the dual swords, clenching them tightly in his fists, their maple groves fitting perfectly to his fingers. And in the next flash of lightning, he was out of the window and into the icy hearth of the storm.

The obsidian squall was terrible, slamming Ba Sing Se with a ferocity that none had seen in more than fifty years. The streets were thick with mud and knee-high with dirty water, the city flooded. Parts of the wall had to be opened to help it flow, but there didn't seem to be any difference. thunder howled alongside its screeching twin brother lightning, slamming into the earth, breaking down houses and destroying crops, punishing the land. Anyone caught would have been swept away by the hurricane-like winds, including the Blue Spirits, mask or no mask. Zuko was the Blue Spirit, the one and only.

Feet slapped the rain-soaked rooftops and then leapt in the wild air, flipping and tumbling into a third-story window, broadswords shinking as he rubbed them together, prepared to do the necessary.

"Huh? Please!" He heard Mushu cry, sitting up in his bed, shaking with fear. "Please don't hurt me!"

"Too bad," Zuko sneered and raised his broadsword back when it suddenly tumbled out of his hand, struck by a large stone. He whipped around to find Mushu's manager Tao, and by the looks, his older brother. And remarkably enough, the other murderer!

Zuko surged at Tao, one blade forward, but was struck in the stomach with another stone, knocking him off-course. But instead of thinking where he had gotten the stones he jumped right back on his feet and yanked the sword that had been knocked away from him before out of the wall, dashing at Tao again, this time blocking his stones from the dark. He raised his left blade but was taken by surprise when the man took a hold of his right and flipped him over his head, sending him flying into the hallway. Zuko hardly had time to recover as Tao's heel came flying at him, narrowly missing him and earthbending the limestone wall away. The firebender was blasted out of the house, tumbling down into the street.

But that wasn't the end of it. The deep water caught his fall, briefly going under until he surfaced and swam to a wooden porch, coughing and pulling himself up. In a flash of lightning Tao and Mushu were waiting for him, muddy boulders floating in their hands. He gripped his swords even though it was a losing battle, and took an earthy blast to the face, the storm making it too difficult to block. But when he finally could see through the torrential sheets he saw the tattoos on both of their arms, first a square and then a circle inside, and a dot in the center. It was only then did he realize where he had seen that very symbol:

_The Dai Lee! They had wiped their own minds before the Earth Kingdom had been restored!_

But he didn't have long to think, for another boulder slammed him in the knees, practically breaking his legs. He could hear more boulders whiz past his head, and he knew that by that point in battle, there was no such thing as a negotiation. They would beat him and kill him… just like they had before. Thus he rolled off into the water, allowing the flood to carry him, separating him from the earthbenders, the men that didn't even remember who they were, what they had done.


End file.
